In the shade created by the skin of the earth
the taste of your lips melts with too many words.
I just want to talk to you
but we take off our clothes and the TV
goes on behind us, leaving your body
blue in the light. After dressing
I describe my next fourteen hours awake until
the small girl of you curls to my side
and the house’s four walls fall to the lowest note
of my voice. The necks of the trees
absorb the unseen moisture of dawn and
in this silence I listen to only your body
apart from the thread of our voices.